Commuter Spy: a visit from the Me-Man

Our Man On The Train is subjected to an evil visitation on his commute.
Again

The Devil is said to come in many forms. The same can be said of the Mean Middle-Aged Man – or as I like to call him, the Me-Man.

I am writing this on the 18:46, and a Me-Man is sitting opposite. When I first got on the train, I didn’t notice him: tonight he has taken the guise of a nondescript commuter, with a modest suit and greyish pallor. But there can be no denying that I have a Me-Man on my hands. His legs, you see, are stretched out so far that his shoes are under my seat. I did ask him to move them, but he made only the slightest concession. I didn’t want to push it; I know how volatile the Me-Man can be. So I am writing this with my feet tucked awkwardly to the side.

Last week the Me-Man made another appearance, but this time in a different form. He was a thin-lipped chap with a face like the dictionary definition of boredom. Halfway through our journey, he began to watch a news clip, out loud – out loud! – on his iPad. Classic Me-Man behaviour, I thought.

My fellow commuters and I exchanged glances. Seeing that nobody was going to challenge him, I tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Do you not have a pair of headphones?” I said.

“No,” he replied, rudely. Then he went back to watching his iPad, exactly as before.

“Excuse me,” I said, my hackles up, “you’re disturbing other people in the carriage.”

This time, he didn’t even look up. I wasn’t sure what to do. The next step was – what? Physical violence? There was no telling what the Me-Man was capable of, given his dark powers. The woman next to me sighed, exasperatedly.

“Some people can just be so rude,” she said. “I think we should tell the guard.”

A man in the seat opposite spoke up. “It’s just a bit much, really,” he said, obviously more flustered than he had appeared.

I looked at the Me-Man. There he sat, a deadpan expression on his face, watching the iPad as if we didn’t exist. Emboldened by the show of support, I tried again.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but can’t you just watch the news later?”

“Yes,” the woman chimed in. “Just turn it off.”

He raised his head. Deep in his eyes, something evil moved. “There’s only 30 seconds left,” said the Me-Man, and continued to watch his news clip.

Those 30 seconds were pure torture. We couldn’t complain, as he had agreed to turn it off. But at the same time, he was asserting his dominance in a foul way.

Finally the news clip ended, and there was silence for the rest of the journey. A victory of sorts: but my blood pressure, I fear, was raised irreversibly.

I know that it is only a matter of time until the Me-Man appears again, in a different incarnation. Right now, however, I can’t wait for the journey to be over. My legs are beginning to cramp.